


Truth or Dare?

by Thali_Quinn



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Betting, F/M, I tag too much, I'm so happy with this, M/M, Mr. Meow Meow, Plot What Plot, Truth or Dare, bitchie, gifting this to my lit friend, it's really not very fluffy just funny and kinda smutty, settling debates, so many headcanons wow, sorta canon-compliant, there's not enough Bitchie content, this is so self-indulgent, who tops?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 15:28:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13251141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thali_Quinn/pseuds/Thali_Quinn
Summary: "Who do you think tops?"orThe one where the losers bet on whether Richie or Bill top and settle the debate with a dare.





	Truth or Dare?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mystery_Lady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystery_Lady/gifts).



> This was supposed to be between 1,000-1,500 words... whoops.  
> You're welcome.

Surprisingly enough, it’d been  _ Ben _ , of all people, who suggested it.

It was probably the third time that week that Bill and Richie had ditched the Losers for, as Richie put it,  _ some hanky-panky _ , and the group was starting to get a bit irritated. They’d been talking about the offending couple and ways to get back at them when Ben, tone thoughtful, asked: 

“Who do you think tops?” 

Eddie, who’d been taking a long swig of vitamin water, choked. Everyone turned to look at him with varying expressions--from deeply offended (Stan,) to curious (Mike,) to amused (Eddie, once he’d coughed the liquid from his lungs.) Beverly, who’d been sitting in Ben’s lap--quirked an eyebrow.

“Well that’s easy,” she said. “Bill, obviously.” Ben shrugged, accepting the answer without difficulty, but Eddie immediately and violently shook his head.

“No way,” he shouted. “No way in Hell! You don’t know Richie  _ nearly _ as well as we do Bev. There’s no  _ way _ he’d give up control, especially not to someone as soft as  _ Bill _ .” Stan muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “ _ you would know _ .” Eddie smacked him.

“I do agree with Eddie though,” Mike said in his quiet manner. “I doubt trashmouth would give in that easy.” He shrugged. “I don’t know though--I’m even newer than Bev. Stan?” The Jewish boy, who’d been more than happy to make fun of Eddie and  _ not _ participate, squirmed uncomfortably.

“I mean, you  _ are _ Bill’s best friend. What do you think?” Ben asked, and suddenly all of the present losers were looking at Stan. He shifted from foot to foot.

“Honestly?” he squeaked, “Probably Bill.” The group exploded into conversation and debate, and just as it was starting to become unreasonably heated, Bev piped up.

“Guys,  _ GUYS _ , why don’t we bet on it?” The losers fell silent. 

“Five bucks says Richie tops,” Eddie said confidently. Mike whistled. 

“That’s a lot of money, Eddie. Three dollar says Richie,” he said. Stan rolled his eyes, now far more invested in the argument than he’d like to be.

“Ten bucks says Bill tops.” The group gawked at him. Beverly swallowed thickly.

“Alright then,” she said, “Five bucks says Bill.” She turned to her boyfriend with an expectant expression. Ben shook his head emphatically.

“No way,” he said, “I’m staying outta this Bev. I’ll play mediator.” She rolled her eyes.

“Fine,” she murmured. “Are we all in agreement?” Mike, Stan, and Eddie nodded. “Okay then.” She resituated herself on Ben, leaning against him. 

It had been a little over a year since they’d cast IT back into the well, allowing Derry to return to it’s peaceful sleepiness, and Ben, Bill, Mike, and Stan had shot up nearly a foot each. Beverly had grown a few inches as well, and so had Richie--even Eddie was now over five foot two, clocking in at a solid 5’3½”. Richie and Eddie, who had been together over a year, had broken up around the same time Beverly and Bill had, and Bev and Ben had gotten together soon after. Bill and Richie, however, was a more recent development.

Sighing, she relaxed into Ben, relishing in how safe she felt with his arms wound securely around her. He’d kept his size, but replaced baby fat with muscle--though his face still had some chub to it. She thought it was cute, and it certainly felt nice to feel as though she weighed nothing at all. Beverly let her eyes fall shut, sunlight warm on her face, and quite suddenly felt ready for a nap.

“So how are we going to find out?” Ben’s voice seemed to echo in her bones, warm and close. She rubbed her eyes viciously.

“We play truth or dare, obviously,” she said, refusing to open her eyes. She was dangerously comfortable. “And dare them to make out.”

“Why don’t we just ask them?” She hears Eddie ask, sounding far away. Beverly would have rolled her eyes if she was willing to lift her eyelids.

“Because Richie would probably lie about it just to fuck with us, and Bill won’t answer,” she said, tone so soaked in exasperation it was dripping with it.

“I was just asking,” Eddie muttered, audibly offended. She could practically  _ hear _ his arms crossing as he pouted, and almost laughed. They started talking about something else--something about conspiracy theories, and how advanced they thought technology would be by 2000?--and she drifted, blissfully, into sleep.

**~Beep Beep~**

Richie released a loud series of expletives, staring at his neck in horror. There was no way in hell he was going to be able to hide the myriad of dark bruises and bitemarks that  _ completely _ blanketed his neck. His creative cursing devolved into indignant squealing. He liked it when Bill marked him, but this was  _ obscene _ \--he looked like he’d tried to hang himself, or he’d taken a purple marker and just  _ went to town _ . 

Groaning in a manner that was downright  _ pornographic _ \--because if it sounded even  _ remotely _ decent it wasn’t any fun--he brushed his teeth and got ready to go over to Mike’s house. They always went to Mike’s when the losers had sleepovers--since his family owned a farm, they were out of the way, and the Losers could be as rowdy and weird as they wanted, free of consequence. Bev was bringing a fair amount of alcohol, and Bill had promised for the both of them they’d be there, especially since they’d skipped out on hanging with everyone several times that week.

“I’m going out,” he shouted to his cat as he left--Mr. Meow Meow was the only occupant. Hs parents hadn’t been home in weeks--if not for the thirty-second voicemail on the home phone of his mom’s cold, clipped voice telling him they’d be gone another month and that money had been added to his account, he might’ve thought they were dead. As it was, he thought that if they were going to hate their child that much they might as well have had an abortion and saved themselves the money.

The bike ride to Mike’s farm wasn’t that long, and he found himself at the barn in a matter of minutes. Eddie and Stan were already there, and he greeted them with an obnoxious grin.

“Sup bitches? How are my main hoes? Any of y’all fuckers do anything interesting since I saw you last or am I going to drop dead from second-dick blue balls?” he jibed, wrapping his arms around their shoulders. It was pretty uncomfortable, considering Eddie was a good three inches shorter than him, and Stan was easily four inches taller. They ignored his taunts easily.

“Jesus Richie, did you get attacked by a vampire?” Stan asked incredulously, eying the trashmouth’s trashed neck. Richie had the decency to blush.

“Fuckin’ Bill,” he murmured, unwrapping his arm from Eddie to rub at the offending marks self-consciously. Eddie’s eyes near about popped out of his head when he noticed. 

“ _ Bill _ did that?” He gaped, noting the almost complete discoloration of his neck. It was difficult to find a patch of skin unmarred, because where there weren’t bruises (and sometimes where there were) there were bitemarks. “Was he trying to dye your neck purple?” 

Richie cleared his throat loudly and hoped his friends wouldn’t comment on the fact that his ears were burning.

“Right so--HEY LOOK BEV AND BEN ARE HERE, SUP B-SQUARED!” He yelled, quickly extracting himself from Stan and Eddie and bounding over to his other friends. “What took you so long,” he asked with a grin. “Too busy fucking to get here on time?” he needled, smiling broadly.

“You’re thinking of you and Bill,” Beverly said easily, hugging Richie warmly. While he didn’t like to talk about it, he’d admitted to her once that he really like physical affection, so she hugged him as often as possible. He hugged her back tightly.

“Damn Bev, what kinda perfume you using? Is that  _ Obsession _ ?” He asked incredulously, inhaling deeply. She laughed, still hugging him.

“Yes, actually. Damn Richie, how do you remember all the smells?” Not  _ How do you know _ \--that was one of the Richie things you just don’t mention. He pulled away from her to clap his hand on Ben’s shoulder. 

“No idea. Just one of my many talents, I guess. What’s up Ben? Write and gay-ass poetry lately?” Ben laughed heartily, slapping Richie on the back.

“You’re thinking of yourself, Tozier, or did you forget you just hugged my  _ girlfriend _ ?” They bantered back and forth for a while, Mike coming in with snacks and joining them. Richie swallowed the unease that came with his boyfriend being late--he knew Bill had a lot of chores on Saturdays. It was revealed that Beverly had brought not one but  _ two _ bottles of rum, eliciting a cheer from the Losers, and they were arguing over whether or not to wait for Bill to show up to crack them open when the boy in question finally arrived.

“S-s-sorry I’m late, g-guys,” the boy in question panted, out of breath. “I got h-held up. Is th-th-that rum?” he asked, immediately walking over to Richie, wrapping his arms around him and burying his nose in his curls. Richie made a contented noise, and Beverly gave Mike and Eddie knowing looks. 

“As a matter of fact,  _ Big Bill, _ it is. Also!” Richie exclaimed, withdrawing from his boyfriend with tangible irritation. “I have a bone to pick with you!” he said, pointing at his neck emphatically. “Look at this! You can barely see my neck!” Richie crossed his arms over his chest with a withering look. Bill laughed heartily, kissing his forehead. He leaned in and whispered:

“You weren’t c-c-complaining last night. W-what was that you were mo-oaning? I th-think it was s-s-somewhere along the lines of  _ Oooh god Bill, don’t stop _ .” Richie turned pink, and Bill cleared his throat. 

“S-so, you said w-we were doing s-s-something specific toni-tonight?” He asked Mike easily, spinning Richie around and wrapping his arms around him once more. His chin rest comfortably in his hair, and each inhale brought with it the sweet, cinnamon scent of  _ Richie _ .

Mike startled, pulled from his shock at the exchange. He was beginning to think he’d bet poorly.

“Yeah, we’re playing truth or dare.” Beverly nodded sagely, and Ben shrugged. Stan and Eddie also accepted it easily, leaving Richie slightly suspicious.

“What, no protests from Eddie, the boy I’d think was a virgin if I didn’t know for a fact he wasn’t?” Tozier ribbed. Eddie flushed pink.

“Hey!” he protested, “not cool, man!” he groused. “And no, no protest, because I’m not a fucking  _ child _ ,” he said, sulking in a very childish manner. Richie laughed.

“Right. Well then if you dumb tampon-sucking fuckwits wanna play truth or dare let’s get this going.” The group started to sit in a circle, and he turned to his boyfriend with an authoritative tone.

“Go sit down,” he said, and Bill ducked his head with a small smile, sitting at the circle, Richie going to the bathroom before returning, sitting squarely on Bill’s lap. 

A few rounds pass before the Losers put Beverly’s plan into action. It’s Stan, actually, who gives the dare to Bill. 

“Bill,” he calls, holding up the bottle of Rum, taking a swig. “Truth or dare?” Bill gives the rum a longing look. 

“D-d-dare,” he says, surprising the losers. Stan swallows, sharing a look with Beverly before--

“I dare you and Richie to makeout for five minutes.”  Richie freezes in Bill’s lap, and Bill himself goes solid beneath him. While they’re pretty openly affectionate, they’ve never done anything more risque in front of their friends than a quick peck on the lips.

“Uhm,” Richie says intelligently, struggling for something witty to say to get out of the awkward situation, and he and Bill stare at Stan. They look around the circle for help, but everyone’s looking at them expectantly.

“O-o-o-o-oka-kay,” Bill stutters out eventually. He gently guides Richie off of him and stands, settling back down in the center of the circle, where all the dares are done. Richie joins him, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable. After a moment's hesitation, Bill pulls Richie onto his lap so the shorter boy is straddling him, and the atmosphere immediately shifts.

Richie pulls off his glasses, setting them to the side, and wraps his arms around Bill’s neck. Bill puts a hand on one of Richie’s (surprisingly thick) thighs, squeezing gently, and the other on the back of his neck. There’s a half-second pause, and then, like a spell being broken, Bill pulls Richie almost violently to him is a kiss that seems far too rough to be comfortable.

The freckled boy releases a noise that’s almost like a whimper and  _ melts  _ as Bill kisses him deeply, messily, sucking at his tongue in a manner that’s absolutely  _ filthy _ . He forgets about his friends watching, forgets the stupid game, and loses himself in Bill. His legs wrap around his boyfriend’s back, hooking at the ankle, and Bill  grabs his wrists from behind his head, pushing Richie onto his back and holding him down. Richie struggles weakly for a moment, mostly for show, before submitting with an obscene groan.

Bill kisses him the way he always does--harshly, posessively, biting and sucking and breaking Richie every damn time. At some point Bill lets go of his wrists and he reaches up, anchoring his hands in Bill’s hand as he tugs him impossibly closer, squeezing his thighs around his waist. It’s when he realizes he’s half-hard that he tries to pull away, unhooking his ankles and releasing his hold on his boyfriend’s hair, but Bill is having none of it. 

Richie yelps a bit when the taller of the two grabs his ass with both hands, squeezing  _ hard _ , and  _ picks him up _ . He reflexively wraps his arms around Bill’s neck again as he stands, and is carried to the bathroom. Bill finally breaks the kiss, looking around the circle. There’s a dark, heady look in his eyes as he looks at the losers and says “ _ Don’t follow us. _ ” He carries Richie--who waves at them as he’s toted away--to the bathroom, sucking at already-there hickies like insurance. The door slams shut behind them.

Eddie wordlessly reaches into his fanny pack and withdraws five dollars in ones, and Mike pulls three out of his pocket. They’d all agreed to bring whatever amount of money they’d bet on with them. Eddie handed Mike one of his ones, then the remaining four to Stan. Mike gave Beverly the other four dollars, and grabbed the Rum from Stan, taking a very,  _ very _ long swig.

When Bill and Richie emerge minutes later, Richie’s red-faced and walking strangely, and Bill looks satisfied.

“Wh-wh-what?” He asks challengingly, grabbing the second bottle of rum--the first one was empty--and drinks deeply. Both he and Richie’s lips are bruised. He passes the bottle to Richie, who chugs a third of the bottle before handing it back. They sit back down in the circle.

Richie barely mutters a word the rest of the night.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment! \\(◦'⌣'◦)/


End file.
